


Our Little Vignette

by macaroni_meangirls



Category: Mean Girls - Richmond/Benjamin/Fey
Genre: Gen, Not for the faint of heart, Read with care, Sick Character, Sickfic, anxious janis, damian is soft as usual, seriously its a lot of vomit, sick sonja and soft janis, someone help these children, thats a lotta vomit, the obligatory Sonja Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-08-18 22:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20199448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macaroni_meangirls/pseuds/macaroni_meangirls
Summary: Well, if there's one thing I do well, it's writing sickness. Here's the fluffy platonic sickfic no one asked for.





	1. Our Little Vignette: Part 1

The irritating buzzing of Janis’s phone is the first thing to penetrate her dozing haze of half-consciousness as she curls under her blankets, relishing in the fact that for once, she’s not working on a Saturday. She’s free, free to doze as long as she pleases, laying lazily in bed for hours after everyone else in the house has gone about their day, nothing to do except sleep…

But apparently her phone has other ideas. Janis groans, groping with one hand out from under her burrito of blankets to snag her vibrating phone. Flicking to answer the call, she presses the phone to her ear. “Whoever this is, the house better be on goddamn fire or so help me-”

“Sarkisian, I need you to come get me before I barf on a pair of Nikes,” a voice that Janis immediately recognizes as Sonja’s crackles through the phone. 

“Sonj...what…?” Janis mumbles lethargically into the phone, rubbing sleep from her eyes with her other hand.

“I got some...questionable...sushi from the gas station down the road - yes, I know, you can yell at me later - and now I’m about one wrong move from hurling into a shoebox. Can I get a ride?”

Janis sighs, reaching for a relatively clean shirt from the tornado of strewn clothes across the floor. “Hang in there. I’ll call Damian and be there as soon as I can.”

“Hurry…” Sonja moans, her voice suddenly undergoing a strange shift in tone. “I - I feel really sick, Jan.”

“I know,” Janis promises, trying to soften her voice as much as she can. It’s not like Sonja to plead, or for her voice to tremble like that. “I know. Just hang in there. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Great…shit, I’m gonna go hurl in the gross employee bathroom now. Be fast.” And then Sonja hangs up abruptly, leaving Janis in the silence of her bedroom.

Damian also sobers at the idea of Sonja asking for help without being completely snarky in the process, immediately hanging up to drive to Janis’s house. He’s one of the oldest sophomores and got his license barely a week ago; Janis has another two months before she even turns sixteen. She flings herself into the passenger seat of his Honda Civic, slamming the door behind her. “We’ve gotta get to Foot Locker quick, she really didn’t sound good.” Damian nods, touching her shoulder as he detects the worry in her voice before shooting out of the driveway as quickly as the speed limit will allow.

Sonja prides herself on being as tough as nails. Her reputation as a girl made of stone means a lot to her, and even though Janis knows her well enough to have seen her softer, weaker sides, it’s not like Sonja to willingly show fragility, even to her best friends. The last time Janis saw her let her guard down was when she broke three bones in her foot on a dare at the skatepark. She’d cried then, crushing Janis’s hand in her own to fight the throbbing pain in her foot. If she’s letting her voice tremble like that again, she must be really sick.

As soon as Damian pulls up outside the Foot Locker where Sonja works, Janis bolts out of the car, rushing to her side. Sonja is curled pitifully on the bench outside, shoulders hunched with her fingers to her lips, a faint green tinge coloring her unusually pale cheeks. Janis lets out a low whistle at the sight, determined not to worry Sonja by freaking out herself. “Damn, Sonj, you look like shit.”

“Wow, thanks,” Sonja mumbles, clutching a little at her stomach with her free hand. “You came…”

“Of course I came, idiot,” Janis scolds affectionately, helping Sonja to her feet. “Are you gonna feel better laying in the backseat or up front? Your pick, dumbass.”

“You’re batshit crazy if you think I’m sitting upright with cramps like this.”

“You can lay in my lap in the back.” Janis carefully puts her hands on Sonja’s hips, steadying her as she stumbles forward. “As long as you don’t barf in my lap.”

“I’ll try.”

Sonja’s a little warm and rather sweaty, her hair damp with perspiration as she fidgets in Janis’s lap, trying to get comfortable. “How long have you been feeling bad?” Janis asks, trying to mask her concern as she holds Sonja steady while Damian pulls away from the curb.

“Stomach’s been trying to overthrow me and exit my body since I ate,” Sonja mumbles, wincing as her stomach flips at the motion. “Puked my guts out in the tiny bathroom, that was fun. Almost knocked myself unconscious on the seat.”

“That’s what you get for eating sushi one-step up from a gas station,” Janis teases, tugging a little on a strand of her hair. “You’re in for it now, Sonj.”

“What Janis is trying to say,” Damian calls from the front, giving Janis the stink eye through the mirror. “Is that she’s very sorry that you’re sick, Sunny.”

“My name’s not Sunny,” Sonja mumbles, only a faint hint of her usual spark gleaming in her eyes. “Incoming barf alert, t-minus about three minutes.”

“Is it getting worse?” Janis brushes a hand across her forehead, wincing at the sheen of sweat on her grey-ish skin. Up front, Damian glances back worriedly, exchanging an anxious glance with Janis.

“Mm…yeah.” Sonja’s fidgeting worsens as she twists a little in Janis’s lap, a tiny whimper slipping out of her. “Fuck, my stomach hurts…”

“Oh, Sunny, hon…” Damian pauses at a stop sign, reaching back to rest his hand briefly on Sonja’s knee. “We’re nearly there, I’ll get you a hot pack when we’re home…”

This time, Sonja doesn’t protest the nickname, her breathing quickening as she lays across Janis’s lap, eyes half-closed. “Sonj…?” Janis eyes her nervously, inquisitively poking her shoulder. “Sonj, say something…”

“Pull over,” Sonja chokes out, her eyes widening as her cheeks turn green. “Fuck-“

Damian practically shoots over to the curb, slamming on the brakes as Sonja claws herself upright, bolting for the car door. After a moment’s hesitation, Janis slides out after her, Damian not far behind. 

As soon as Sonja’s out of the car, she bends double, bracing her hands on her knees as she coughs wetly over the grass. Damian gently braces his hands on her shoulders, steadying her as she sways on her feet. “Shh, Sunny...you’re gonna be okay…”

Janis hesitantly shuffles beside her, awkwardly patting her friend’s back. “Shh...Sonj, it’s okay, we’ve got you…”

Sonja staggers as she heaves, only saved from falling by Damian’s gentle grip on her shoulders. “Oh, Sunny, hon...you’re gonna be okay, just let it happen…”

Janis gives her back a few more pats, flinching as Sonja lets out a strangled retch, a splatter of vomit landing on the grass. She’s not used to taking care of her friends; Damian almost never gets sick and Sonja generally quarantines herself when she does, preferring to deal with any form of weakness alone. It’s a mark of how bad she must feel that she’s letting them help, and that only makes Janis feel worse. “Oh, Sonj, you’ve really got it bad…”

Sonja finally lifts her head, slumping against Damian as she struggles to catch her breath. “Sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” Damian rebukes gently, massaging her shoulders soothingly. “You can’t help it, hon, you’re sick. Just let us know when you can get back in, okay?”

Sonja nods, her lack of a snarky comment alarming Janis even more. “Let’s just go, I just wanna lay down…”

Damian nods, motioning for Janis to settle back into the backseat before guiding Sonja forward, hands on her hips to help her stay on her feet. She slumps slowly into Janis’s lap, spreading across the seats miserably, sweat soaking her clothes. Janis slowly strokes her hair, evenly brushing it off of her sweaty forehead. “Let me know if you need to be sick again,” she mumbles, trying not to look as Sonja wipes her mouth on her sleeve. 

As soon as Damian stops the car by Sonja’s house, she practically dives out, scrambling roughly over Janis to heave unproductively over the sidewalk, struggling to stay upright as she gags. Damian rushes out of the car and to her side, holding her upright as she coughs. Janis hangs back awkwardly, eyeing them with an air of apprehension. She doesn’t know what to do, she doesn’t know how to help, all she knows is that her friend is sick and miserable and there’s nothing she can do to make it stop.

Sonja finally spits up a thin stream of acid and straightens a little, collapsing against Damian for support. He scoops her up easily, setting her down on the old burgundy couch in her living room. “Jan, grab a bucket or something.” 

As Janis scurries to obey, out of the corner of her eye she sees Damian kneeling by Sonja’s side, squeezing her small hand. Of course he knows exactly what to do. He’s a much better friend than her. He always has been.

She snatches up the trashcan from the kitchen to set beside the couch, hanging back once more as Damian tucks a blanket over Sonja. “Sunny, I’m gonna run to the store and get some stuff to help you feel better, okay?”

“Don’t call me that,” Sonja mumbles, playfully punching his arm. It’s nowhere close to her usual fire, but her eyes gleam with a hint of mischief, reassuring Janis slightly. If Sonja’s feeling well enough to be snarky, she’ll be fine. “Gonna leave me all by myself…?”

“Of course not, hon. Jan’s gonna stay with you.” Damian grabs Janis by the shoulders, swinging her forward to the couch. “Right, Jan?”

“I am? I mean, yeah, sure, whatever…” Janis swallows hard, trying to ignore her anxiety as she kneels shakily by her friend. “Come back soon…?”

“I’ll hurry,” Damian promises, leaning in to kiss first Janis’s forehead, then Sonja’s. “Behave, girls. If someone’s dead when I come back, I’ll be very upset.”

Then he’s gone, leaving Janis alone by Sonja’s side. She moans a little, closing her eyes and letting her head loll back. “Death has come for me. This is it. This is the end.”

“You need anything…?” Janis asks awkwardly, touching her shoulder in a weak effort to be comforting. 

“A loaded pistol and a suicide note.” Sonja’s face twists with discomfort and she grabs the trashcan, propping herself up on her elbow and gagging wetly over it. Janis tenses, watching her nervously, but after a moment she replaces the can, flopping back against the pillows. “Ugh. False alarm.”

“Seriously, anything I can do…?” Janis repeats, focusing on the patterns in her tights rather than Sonja’s pale and sweaty face. “Anything…?”

Sonja nods slowly, hugging her arms to her stomach. “Heating pad…? I feel like I’m being stabbed…”

Janis finds the pad in Sonja’s room, plugging it into the outlet behind the couch. Sonja sighs as she presses the pad to her stomach, letting her eyes fall closed again. “What’s wrong, Jan?”

“What?” Janis mumbles, her cheeks heating up immediately. She’s never been a good liar, especially not with the people she loves. “Nothing’s wrong, you’re the sick one, don’t worry about me…”

“Yeah, right. You’re quiet, which is weird, and looking at me like I’m on my deathbed. It’s food poisoning, not the end of the world. Spill.”

“Damn.” Janis sighs, settling back. “You know me too well. I guess...I guess I just feel like a shit friend...Damian’s so much better at helping, and all I was doing earlier was standing there patting your back...I just feel lame, I guess. Like I’m not good enough for you, I can’t even help you feel better…”

Sonja snorts a little, stretching her hand out to Janis. “Don’t be an idiot, Sarkisian. You’re not a shit friend. You’re a great friend. There’s not a lot that anyone can really do. I’m sick and I’m gonna be sick for a while and it’s gonna suck. But the fact that you care enough to be there, just rubbing my back and not leaving me alone…” She sighs, rolling her eyes a little before making her admission. “It means a lot.”

Janis cracks a smile, intertwining her fingers in Sonja’s. “Thanks, Sonj.”

Sonja squeezes her hand, returning the weak smile. “Any time, Sarkisian - oh, God.”

“Here, sit up, you’ll choke,” Janis murmurs immediately, helping Sonja into a sitting position as she places the bucket between her knees. “There…”

Sonja dry heaves over the can, hugging her stomach as she stares into the bottom, a low moan escaping her lips. “Jan...ugh…”

“Oh, Sonj…” Janis runs her fingers slowly through her sweaty hair, tracing her other hand in patterns across her friend’s shoulders. “Just breathe…”

Slowly, awkwardly, Janis pulls herself up onto the couch besides Sonja, rubbing circles over her back as she gags unproductively again. “Fuck, I can’t throw up…”

“It’s okay,” Janis murmurs, rubbing her back a little more firmly. “It’s okay. I’m right here, you’re gonna be okay…”

Sonja’s head dips into the bucket again, her shoulders shaking as she dry heaves. “Fuck…”

“Don’t talk,” Janis murmurs, patting her back gently. “I’ve got you, Sonj, I’m right here...just breathe, okay? Just breathe. You’re gonna be okay, just let it happen…”

Sonja moans, spitting into the trashcan before coughing up a bit of bile, her head dipping down once more. “Good girl,” Janis murmurs, keeping her hand moving slowly on her back. “That’s good, just let it out…”

Her friend finally crumples over the bucket, heaving up another wave of vomit, her knuckles clenched white on the rim. Janis flinches, turning away to spare herself the visual, but doesn’t take her hand off Sonja’s back the whole time. “I’m here, Sonj, I’m right here…”

Sonja finally slumps back, her eyes half-closed and breathing shallow. “I feel like shit…”

“I know,” Janis murmurs, easing the trashcan away from her and back onto the floor. “You wanna rinse your mouth out now…?”

Sonja nods weakly, flopping back against the couch as she tries to get her breath back. Janis nods, touching her arm before rushing for a cup of water. 

Sonja takes the cup shakily, swishing a mouthful around to wash away the lingering acidic taste before spitting it into the bucket. “God, I feel terrible…”

“Need anything…?” Janis asks again, briefly pausing in rubbing her back. “Anything at all…?”

A deep flush spreads through Sonja’s cheeks, but she’s too sick to care much about preserving her dignity. “Cuddles…? My stomach hurts and you’re warm…”

Janis doesn’t hesitate, immediately falling back against the pillows and pulling Sonja to lay on top of her, lightly rubbing her back as she curls into her. “I got you, Sonj...just rest, let me know if you need the bucket again...I’ve got you.”

Sonja nods sleepily, nestling further into her. “So warm...thanks, Jan. Love you…”

“Love you too, Acquino.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Damian returns, laden with a grocery bag of supplies, Sonja dozes peacefully in Janis’s lap, curled quietly across her knees. “She feeling better…?” he murmurs, setting the bag down to sit on the armrest of the couch. His hand automatically goes to Janis’s back, rubbing circles between her shoulder blades, where tension always gathers in her spine.

“Not really.” Janis sighs at his touch, letting the tension out of her muscles. “It’s Sonja, she can sleep through anything. She got sick again while you were gone, and it doesn’t look like it’s gonna stop anytime soon.” In her lap, Sonja twitches, her face scrunching in discomfort as she lets out a little whine.

Damian shakes his head, sympathy in his soft blue eyes as he leans down to brush cool fingers across Sonja’s fever-flushed cheek. “Poor girl...she must really be feeling bad if she let you hold her…”

“She felt bad enough to ask for it.” Janis lets her head lean against Damian, closing her eyes as he runs his fingers through her hair. “I’m worried about her, Damian. It’s not like her to….” She lets her voice trail off, knowing he’ll hear the words she can’t find a way to verbalize.

“She’ll be okay,” Damian promises, touching Janis’s arm. “She’s a tough one. It’s the Acquino in her, or at least that’s what she tells me several thousand times a day.” Janis rolls her eyes a little, huffing a laugh at the harmless jab at Sonja. Their friend takes immense pride in carrying her mom’s surname; everyone and their brother has heard something about what the name Acquino means, each definition more grandiose than the last.

At the sound of his voice, Sonja lifts her head blearily, blinking sleep from her eyes. “Everything hurts and I’m freezing and dying.”

“Your breath smells like roadkill,” Janis shoots back, going to elbow her teasingly before remembering that that’s maybe not the best idea. “Here, thermometer.” She reaches behind her, snapping her fingers at Damian for the thermometer she intuitively knows is in the bag he brought. “Your face is bright red.”

“Feels like it,” Sonja mumbles, briefly bringing her fist to her lips to stifle a wet hiccup, her shoulders lurching slightly. Janis pokes the thermometer in between her chapped lips, giving her arm a squeeze before flopping back against Damian to wait.

The thermometer reads slowly. Janis zones out after a minute or so, waiting for the beeping to rouse her from a detailed daydream about showing her art nationally. Then Damian lunges forward from behind her, sending her falling unceremoniously to the side, and Janis looks up, blinking confusedly. She’s just in time to watch Damian pry the thermometer from the hand a positively green Sonja has clapped over her lips before snatching up the trashcan, pushing her head over it before Janis can make a move.

She finally scoots forward, settling on the ground by Sonja to rest her head on her knee in comfort. After a few moments of dry heaving, Damian thumps her back encouragingly and Sonja lurches forward with a soft moan and an accompanying splattering noise echoing from inside the trashcan. Janis winces, turning her head away. The sound is sickening enough; with the visual she’s liable to vomit herself.

“Atta girl,” Damian praises softly, moving his hand in slow circles over Sonja’s back. “That’s good, you’re getting it out - oh, shit.”

“What? What’s the matter?” Janis whirls around, meeting Damian’s panicked blue eyes. 

“Jan, it’s blood, she’s bringing up blood.” Damian seizes her hand, squeezing her wrist tightly. “I need you to do a couple of things for me. Can you do a couple of things for me?”

Stunned, Janis nods a little, fixated on Sonja. Her friend is still bent over the trashcan, panting slightly, still obviously queasy. Scarlet drips from her lower lip in a string of ropy saliva, more blood trickling from her nose. The force of heaving must have blown a blood vessel. 

“Grab a blanket and a paper bag from the kitchen,” Damian orders, giving Sonja’s back a few gentle pats as she coughs wetly, more blood spattering into the can. “Put the blanket in the car and give her the bag. We’re going to the ER.”

Janis flinches immediately, unable to take her gaze off Sonja. She’s terrified of hospitals, and if Sonja’s sick enough to need the emergency room…

She shakes herself quickly, touching Sonja’s shoulder briefly before dashing upstairs for a blanket. No matter how scared she is, Sonja is almost definitely more scared, and she needs to keep it together for her.

Janis spreads the blanket across the backseat, handing Sonja her paper bag as Damian scoops her up. “How long has she been...doing that…?” Janis murmurs in shocked horror as Sonja dips her head into the bag, another flow of blood, saliva, and liquidy vomit pouring from her mouth.

“Since you left,” Damian replies grimly, carrying Sonja easily out to the car. “It’s just acid at this point. Here, you sit with her, don’t let her choke. I’m gonna have to drive.”

Her hands quivering with fear, Janis settles next to Sonja, running a hand under her shirt to rub her sweaty back. Wincing at the heat coming from her skin, she moves her hand in smooth circles, murmuring quiet, meaningless reassurance as Sonja brings up another mouthful of bloody bile. “Just get it all out, Sonj...I’ve got you.”

Sonja lifts her head, granted a temporary reprieve as Damian pulls out of the driveway, hugging her stomach miserably. “Do you have anything to drink…?”

“Um…” Janis swivels her head, searching, but before she can do more than a quick scan of the car, Damian thrusts a bottle of ginger ale into her hand from his supply bag. “We have this…?”

“My mouth tastes like ass,” Sonja jokes feebly, a pitiful attempt at sounding like her normal self that doesn’t reach her glassy eyes, as she takes a sip from the bottle. “There’s something else, I just can’t get it up…”

“I’m pretty sure you’re cleaned out, Sonj,” Janis mutters, running her hand down her back soothingly. “Just keep sipping on that, it’ll settle your-”

Sonja thrusts her head back into the bag, lurching forward with a deep retch to hurl up the few sips of ginger ale and a couple of solid chunks, another flow of blood and saliva pouring down her chin. Janis flinches away, patting her back firmly. “Okay, then...not cleaned out...just let it up, Sonj…”

With a low, miserable moan, Sonja’s shoulders jolt again, another heave racking her small body. Janis winces, keeping up her rhythm of firm pats, cupping her palm over Sonja’s sweaty forehead to hold her steady as another wave of bloody vomit spatters into the bag. “Jesus, Sonj…”

Suddenly, without warning, Sonja slumps sideways, falling away from the bag as another stream of ropy spit, stomach acid, and blood pours out of her mouth, the worst of it landing on Janis’s shirt, already soaking in with sickening warmth. Before Janis can even process, Sonja convulses again, coughing up yet more acid and blood. 

Swearing in shock, Janis snatches up the bag, holding Sonja’s head over it to contain the continuous flow of vomit dripping from her lips. Her friend is too sick to do anything other than lay limply against her, her head lolling, supported only by Janis’s hand. Tiny, nauseous hiccups jolt her shoulders as she retches, thin mouthfuls of blood and acid the only thing coming up as her stomach empties. 

Damian stops the car outside the doors of the ER, turning back to Janis as a horn honks behind them. “Carry her in and go, I’ll meet you when I park the car!” Before Janis can protest, another horn sounds behind them and she gathers Sonja into her arms, forced to leave the bag behind as she stumbles into the ER.

Sonja’s limp, still convulsing form is almost immediately lifted away onto a gurney and somehow Janis is going with her, their hands locked as she stumbles after her friend. Her knuckles stand out stark white against Sonja’s darker complexion, cold tears stinging the corners of her eyes as she staggers after the gurney. She can’t bring herself to break away. 

The world seems to spin around Janis as she finds her way to the edge of Sonja’s bed, the acrid sting of acid mingled with the sharp tang of antiseptic stinging her nose as she stares down into her friend’s sickly, bloodied face. Then a white-coated doctor lifts her tan wrist, a sharp needle glinting in the burning fluorescent lights of the hospital room. Janis tries to steel herself, tries to fight her fear and keep her hand in Sonja’s, but the sight of the needle sinking into her soft flesh is too much to bear and she wrenches her hand out of Sonja’s grip, fleeing the room to leave the blood behind.


	2. Our Little Vignette: Part 2

“Janis? Janis?”

Janis slowly tilts her head up to be met with Damian’s pale blue eyes, her own puffy and swollen from crying. She doesn’t know exactly how long she’s been sitting in this hard-backed plastic chair, weeping quietly into her hands, but she’s sure that it’s been hours. Hours since Sonja was whisked away, hours since Janis wrenched her hand from her friend’s and fled the room. 

“Anyone home?” Damian’s voice is teasing, but his eyes are soft as he waves a hand in front of her bloodshot eyes. “I have news.”

“Is she okay…?” Janis murmurs, mopping at her damp eyes with her paint-stained sleeves. She has to be okay, Sonja has to be okay, she’s too tough to go down like this, she can’t be gone…

“She’s doing great,” Damian assures her, nudging Janis to stop chewing on her lip as she always does when she’s anxious. “It got dicey there for a few minutes, but she’s stable and resting comfortably in her room. They’re intravenously rehydrating her now. Doctor said she should be able to go home tomorrow and she’ll be back on her feet and just fine in a few days.”

Janis sobs a little at that, fresh tears of relief welling in her eyes. “She’s - she’s okay...oh my God, Damian…”

“I know,” he murmurs, kneeling by her side to wrap an arm around her shaking shoulders. “Scary few hours, hmm? But it’s over now. Everyone’s okay.”

“Can we see her…?” Janis manages, still attempting to wipe her face of tears. “Sonja and I have been friends since eighth grade, I know her, she won’t admit she’s scared but she’s gonna be freaking out right now, and being alone always makes it worse-”

“Take a deep breath,” Damian says lightly, giving Janis a gentle nudge. “She’s supposed to be visited by family only, but her mom is trapped at work...but then again, you are stepsisters, aren’t you?” 

Damian’s eyes sparkle with mischief and Janis can’t help but giggle, throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you…”

“Any time, sweet. Off you go, go check on your sister for me.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janis shuffles awkwardly into Sonja’s hospital room, her feet squeaking on the tile as she lifts her hand in greeting. “Hey…”

“Janis?” Sonja lifts her head a little, her eyes almost imperceptibly widening in relief at the sight of her face. “Come over here, I want hugs.”

Well-accustomed to Sonja’s mannerisms, Janis hears the slight pleading behind the order and shifts forward willingly, perching awkwardly on the side of her bed. “How are you feeling…?”

“Like shit that got hit by a cement mixer.” Sonja lets her head loll to the side, shifting it into Janis’s lap. “Also high. I don’t know what half of these painkillers are, but it’s the good shit. I can’t feel my toes…”

Janis slowly slips a hand into her hair, combing her fingers gently through her friend’s soft, amber-brown hair. “I’m glad you’re not so sick anymore…”

“Me too,” Sonja jokes, catching Janis’s free hand in her own. “I’m a big fan of that.”

They fall silent then, never a pair to indulge in formalities such as small talk. Sonja nestles contentedly into Janis’s lap, huffing a sigh at the stroking of her hair. But Janis isn’t nearly as content, the brief reprieve of seeing Sonja displaced by the return of her brewing anxiety. She’d been so sick in the car, and Janis had been powerless to help...and now she can see in the way Sonja clings to her hand that she’s scared, but she doesn’t know why or how to stop it…

“Stop chewing your lip,” Sonja mumbles, her voice scratchy and hoarse from her irritated throat. “You’re gonna chomp through it again, and I’m too tired to calm you down and stuff gauze in your mouth.”

Once again, Janis hears the compassion and caring behind the callous words, slowly letting the edge of her lip free from her teeth. “Don’t worry about me, you’re the one in the hospital…”

“Jan, I’m on enough drugs to knock out a hippopotamus. Spill.” Sonja wriggles a little further into her lap, the comforting weight of her body lending Janis a little bit of grounding. It’s not unlike a weighted blanket, albeit one with a foul mouth and anger issues. “C’mon, take my mind off the needles in my arms and the disgusting taste in my mouth.”

Janis smiles weakly at her teasing, lightly tapping Sonja’s shoulder to simulate their usual playful punches. “Fine...for you, and only for you, you moron.” She lets out a heavy sigh, slumping back against the crinkly hospital pillows as she weighs her words, trying to put her swirling thoughts into words. “I guess…I don’t know, just...you were so sick in the car, and there was blood, and...I was kinda scared you weren’t gonna be okay, and then all the needles, and the hospital, and you had my hand and I didn’t wanna leave but I had to get out, the needles...and then we were waiting so long, and I still didn’t know how you were or what was happening or if - if you were gonna - gonna make it -” Janis’s voice breaks then and she turns her head away to hide the rapidly welling tears from Sonja’s questioning amber eyes. “You scared me, idiot, I thought you were gonna die and I was never gonna see your stupid idiot face again and I fucking _love_ you, and there’s only one Sonja Acquino in the world and I thought you were going to _leave!_” A sob tears loose from her as she finally confesses her worst fear, what’s been running through her head since they started for the hospital. Left by her father, left by Regina, she’s terrified of being left again, abandoned by someone else she dared to love.__

_ _For a moment, silence, only punctuated by Janis’s muffled, hiccupy sobs as fresh tears course down her cheeks and the beeping of the hospital machines. Then Sonja grasps her hands, hard enough to hurt a little, gripping Janis’s hands tightly in her own small, cold ones. “I’m not going to die on you, Jan, not anytime soon. I’m not. I know a lot of people have left you behind, but I’m not gonna be one of them. I’m never going to leave you. Hell, if you do outlive me my fucking ghost will chase you around writing creepy shit on your walls and making fucking weird moaning noises in the middle of the night, because try as you might, I’m not gonna leave you. I’m not going to leave you, you hear me? I’m not going to leave you!”_ _

_ _Sonja’s voice breaks a little too, the same cracks showing through as she lets her guard down. Her father left too, left her behind when she was ten years old, and she understands the same crippling fear of being abandoned again._ _

_ _Damian is fatherless as well, for the same reason, but he’s not like them. Damian goes through life with a trusting heart and an open mind. He’s easily able to trust, faithful enough in the good of humanity to approach life without hesitation. Janis isn’t like that, and Sonja isn’t either. Hurt and abandoned and grieving, they pieced themselves together far more roughly than Damian did, carrying with them that anger and that pain that makes it difficult to trust anyone. _ _

_ _They met in eighth grade, a few months before the space dyke debacle. Janis had been kicked from the Plastic table for wearing a ponytail twice in one week. As she shuffled in disgrace to the “freak table,” she’d settled in place beside a skinny Latina girl with waist-length dark hair and an empty lunch box. She can still recall just how glassy Sonja’s eyes had been, how hollow her cheeks were in her thin face as she’d eyed the others’ lunch trays hungrily. After only a moment’s hesitation, Janis had pushed over her lunch box, secure in the knowledge that she’d come home to another meal. She’d gotten the sense Sonja didn’t have that security. _ _

_ _Their first conversation had been simple and hesitant, a few words exchanged quietly under the eye of the Plastics. But they’d discovered they had more in common than they would have thought; the freak and the Plastic. It had been with a slight warmth burning in her chest she’d never felt before that Janis had returned to the Plastics after lunch, a faint regret stinging her heart as Sonja disappeared into the crowd of students._ _

_ _And then after that horrible day after she came out to Regina, it had been Sonja to come after her. She’d known Damian for almost a year by then, but he hadn’t quite grown confident enough to enter the girls’ bathroom or skip class. So it was Sonja who coaxed her out of the bathroom stall, who cleaned the tracks of makeup from her tear-stained cheeks, who comforted her by coming out to her on the dirty tile floor, who taught her how to be an outcast. And they’ve been friends ever since. Two people afraid to trust, trusting each other over shared experiences and weeks of slow learning. _ _

_ _Sonja is the only person Janis knows who can truly understand her, all the ugly and bruised and broken parts, because she’s ugly and bruised and broken in the same places. Losing her would be like losing her hand._ _

_ _With uncharacteristic gentleness, Sonja’s tan hand brushes away a tear from Janis’s cheek, and with a sudden start she realizes that there are tears welling in Sonja’s eyes as well. Of course there are, of course she’s afraid, she’s the sick one, she’s in the hospital…_ _

_ _Then Sonja throws her arms tightly around Janis’s neck, burying her head in the soft fabric of her paint-splattered jacket. Without hesitation, Janis wraps her arms around her just as tightly, rocking Sonja soothingly, gently stroking her soft brown hair as she cradles her. Muffled by the shirt, barely audible, Sonja mumbles something again and again, something Janis realizes after a few repetitions as “I love you, I love you so much, I love you…”_ _

_ _Heartbreaking at the fear in her voice, Janis pulls her closer, rocking her soothingly as her own tears flow. “I love you too, Sonj.”_ _


End file.
